


Yeild

by BawdryWeirdsley



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Thor (Marvel), Caning, M/M, Power Exchange, Switch Thor, Top Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BawdryWeirdsley/pseuds/BawdryWeirdsley
Summary: Thor bests Loki in the training arena once again, but in the bedroom he volunteers to pay the price.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 93





	Yeild

**Author's Note:**

> A short fic for thorkiweek  
> This was supposed to be hurt/comfort, but my characters like to comfort each other with more hurt, apparently.  
> You can see my thorkiweek art on my Twitter @BawdryW

Loki isn’t going to win, but he’ll come closer than any other here. Not that it seems much consolation to Loki. His brother glowers at him, eyes narrow, breathing heavily, his blades gripped tightly. _Too_ tightly, Thor could tell him- a loser grip is better with such weapons- but he knows that his advice would be unappreciated at best. Loki doesn’t often come to the training grounds, but Thor always relishes the chance of a real battle when he does, and so do the warriors of Asgard. Their admiration for Loki’s prowess is unappreciated too- Loki’s far too prickly and defensive to see their interest as anything but a hope to see him bested.

_I could let him win._

But he’d know. And he’d be _truly_ angry, instead of...whatever it is he feels when they conclude these infrequent bouts.

Thor’s fighting with a polearm today- not his favorite weapon, but the long reach is a good counter to Loki’s speed. All he has to do is keep him at a distance. Not exactly an easy task, agile as Loki is, but his need to win makes him press too hard and Thor sends him to the ground again and again.

“You could yield,” he suggests as Loki thumps into the dirt for the tenth time, rubbing his thigh where the pole-arm caught him.

“Tired, brother?” pants Loki.

“ _I’m_ not tired,” says Thor. “You perhaps?”

A few of the warriors laugh, and Loki shoots them a furious glower. 

“Do I look tired?”

Thor smiles. Loki’s fine armor is powdered with dirt, his hair hangs in his face, and his chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.

“Never, but why...”

Loki comes at him from three directions at once. 

“No magic!” Someone calls. But it doesn’t matter. Loki’s exhausted and angry and it’s easy for Thor to swing the polearm in a wide arc that knocks the real Loki off his feet and shatters the two illusions in an instant. _Oh Loki, always so impatient._ He strides towards Loki planting a boot at the center of his chest before he can regain his feet. 

“Cheating?”

Loki struggles. “Hardly cheating. Just making it more, ah, that hurts! Realistic. Get off me!”  
“Perhaps if you yield?” Thor says, mildly.

“I...”

Thor presses down a little harder and Loki gasps. 

“Very well! I yield!”

Thor releases him and he sits up brushing the dusty boot print off his chest plate. “If this were a battle of wits you’d be begging me for mercy.”

“Aye, and if you had wings, you might fly.” Thor grins. “Or if you had Mjolnir.”

“Thor, if you _dare_..”

Thor holds out his hand feeling the familiar thrum of power as Mjolnir thumps into his palm. He stoops, picking up Loki and slinging him over his shoulder.

“Put me down! I command you.”

Thor shrugs and Loki grabs onto his belt to keep his balance. 

“Sorry, but you yielded. You don’t get to issue commands.”

And then Mjolnir is cutting through the air and Loki’s cursing him and clinging tighter as they fly back towards the palace.

* * *

He strips away the supple leather as fragrant as the skin beneath it then the damp silk, until all that’s left is pale skin, marred only by the welts and bruises that he himself has put there. When he presses his lips to a bruise like a bloom of purple roses at the top of Loki’s thigh, his brother hisses.

“Ah, that _hurts_. You’re always too rough.”

“Always?”

“Well...” Loki quickly covers his smile with a haughty frown. “You didn’t need to put your boot print on me”

There’s enough genuine hurt in his tone to make Thor feel slightly ashamed. The problem is, the more superior Loki acts the more Thor wants to bring him down- and then to bring him here, to this bed where all of their greatest victories and acts of surrender occur. But he also knows how it stings Loki to be bested in battle, especially in front of a crowd. Now is not the time to domineer, but to soothe. 

“You could have yielded sooner,” he says, running a hand down Loki’s chest. “But I’m pleased that you didn’t. I’ll enjoy knowing that you’re marked by me beneath your fine clothes in court tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I’ll be bruised for weeks.”

He wants to laugh at Loki’s petulant tone, but instead he rolls on top of him, pinning his wrists to the pillow either side of his head.

“I suppose I should make it up to you?”

“Yes, you should.”

“Very well.”

He strips off his own dusty armor quickly, dropping it carelessly to the floor as Loki watches.

“Not a mark on you,” Loki says, shaking his head. 

“Even though you cheated,” agrees Thor.

“I didn’t...”

He shuts Loki up with a kiss. The only reliable way to do it. 

“But how many did I land on you? Let us see.”

“Too many to count,” says Loki, and Thor laughs.

“Despite what you might think I can count past three. Which one hurts the most?”

“My ribs,” says Loki, wincing theatrically.

“Let me see, stretch out for me. Let me see all of you.” Loki favors him with an icy look, but does as Thor tells him. 

“Ah, that is a good one.” He runs his fingers gently over the welt on Loki’s ribs. “If you’d learn to parry...”

“I thought you were supposed to be making it up to me, not criticizing my fighting skills.”

Thor raises his hands. “Very well!” He bends down to kiss Loki’s bruise. His skin is salty with the sweat of combat, and he can’t resist running his tongue up the flat plane of Loki’s belly.

Loki sighs and his fingers curl in Thor’s hair.

“I’d have your mouth lower if if you truly mean to repay the insult.”

“The insult of beating you in fair combat that you definitely didn’t cheat during?”

Loki gives his hair a tug and Thor laughs. “Very well, you’ll have it, but first we must count your wounds. That’s one. Another here on your shin. One on your thigh.”

“Two on my arm,” Loki points out. 

“I see them. What about the other side? Your best side some might say.”

Loki shoots him a venomous look, but he rolls over.

“I don’t remember hitting you here.” He gives Loki’s ass a squeeze.

“That was from last week.”

“Did we spar last week?” asks Thor as innocently as he’s able.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Let’s count it anyway.” He kisses the fading bruise and Loki makes a muffled noise of impatience. Thor too is finding Loki hard to resist, but as much as he enjoys stealing away Loki’s dignity he knows that he needs a little of it back right now. It can’t be easy being Thor’s brother in a Kingdom like Asgard that values brawn over brains.

He finds two more bruises on Loki’s shoulders, and one that covers the backs of both ankles.

“We’ll count that one as two,” He says. “So, ten in all.”

Loki props himself up on an elbow and looks back at Thor over his shoulder. “Is there a point to this? Other than to prove that you can in fact count past three?”

“Of course. You wanted me to make it up to you, so I will. Ten welts I striped you with- and very lovely they look, brother. So you’ll put ten on me.” He pulls the idea from the ether, but right away it feels like the right one. 

Loki sits up, frowning at him. “Ten marks?”

“Seems fair. What shall we have you use? My belt might do it.”

Loki’s silent a moment, then he says “A belt is hardly the same as a polearm.”

“True. Thor looks around the room. Sadly I’m out of polearms.”

“A cane,” Loki says, quickly. “It ought to leave some fine welts.”

“I don’t have a...”

Loki waves his wand in the air, and a slender, black cane appears in his hand.

Now it’s Thor’s turn to frown. “Just had that ready, did you?”

Loki shrugs, smiles. “It’s best to be prepared. Are you truly going to let me do this?”

He looks so uncertain suddenly that Thor feels a great rush of tenderness for him. “If you wish to. If it will please you.”

He expects some acid remark, but instead Loki takes his hand and kisses the palm.

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I’d be disappointed if you were. How do you want me?”

“It’s up to me?”

Thor nods. “You’re in charge.”

Loki runs the cane up his chest, using the tip of it to tilt Thor’s chin up. He can’t help but shiver at the look in Loki’s eyes. This isn’t a dynamic they’ve explored very often, yet he finds himself eager for it.

“Very well. I want you where you put me. On the ground. On your hands and knees.”

Thor finds he can’t make any coherent reply. He sees Loki’s eyes narrow as they take in the hardness of his prick. He’s a little surprised by how exciting he finds the idea himself.

It feels odd to kneel like this on the stone floor of his own grand rooms, yet the strangeness of it excites him too. Loki slides off the bed, but all Thor can see of him are his bare feet, pacing slowly around him.

“Not a mark on you,” Loki says, softly. “Was there ever a warrior like you?”

No. And there was never a magician like you.”

Loki laughs. “Flattery won’t save you, brother.”

Thor starts as the cane taps lightly on his thighs. “Spread your legs a little. Arch your back. Let me see you properly. I shouldn’t need to tell _you_.”

It’s a command he’s given to Loki often enough, but it feels different to be on the other end of it. 

The cane taps a little harder. “Don’t make me wait. This was your idea, after all.”

He feels his face grow hotter as he assumes the position he’s drilled into Loki. Naturally it makes him feel vulnerable, that’s the whole point, but he had no idea how good it would feel to put himself so wholly into the power of another. To let go of his pride and relax into his own helplessness.

_I might grow used to this._

He moans out loud as Loki’s cool fingers run down his back. “You look good like this. Are you sure that you want it? Last chance to back out.”

“I’m sure.”

“Very well.”

Loki isn’t as strong as he is himself, but he’s strong enough. Thor manages to hold himself still as the first blow sears his thighs, but it’s a close thing. It isn’t so much the pain- he’s suffered far worse in battle- but the knowledge that he’s doing nothing to resist. That and the hot, deep, thudding pulse of desire that gathers in his belly and his cock and his balls as though Loki’s hands are on him, teasing and stoking the heat of his passion.

Loki makes a pleased noise. “That had to hurt. It will bruise as nicely as the one you gave me I believe. Now, do I match you blow for blow, or do I find a more interesting spot to mark you?”

He answers his own question with two swift lashes across Thor’s ass that drop him from his hands to his elbows.

“ _Norns_ , Loki that hurt.”

“It was meant to. No, don’t get up. I like you like that.”

Loki’s foot nudges up between Thor’s spread thighs, lifting his sack, teasing the underside of his straining cock. He pushes himself back onto it and Loki laughs. “Mmm, so eager. But you told me you could count? I count only three, not ten.” Thor gasps as the tip of the cane taps gently against his hole. “How many more have you earned?”

Thor tries to think but the combination of his shame and the way the cool wooden tip of the cane is teasing at the tight knot of his exposed hole drives all thought away.

“Three from ten is seven, brother,” says Loki. “You may count them out loud if it helps you to remember.

And Thor does, one after the other as Loki brings the cane down over his ass again and again until his cock is streaming, and his body drips sweat and the strength in his thighs is beginning to give out and all he wants is for Loki to take him, or to allow him to take Loki- However he wants it.

He’s dimly aware of the cane clattering to the floor, and that Loki is standing in front of him again. Loki’s hands feels wonderfully cool on his face as he urges him up to his knees. The long, clever fingers card through Thor’s hair, and Thor’s arms close around Loki’s hips, his lips pressed to the hardness of Loki’s cock.

“Oh, that feels good, Thor. I’d have your mouth on me now. But first you must answer a question.”

“What is it?” Nothing complicated he hopes. His body is flooded with endorphins, a drowsy, delicious feeling of pleasure, and the beat of his heart makes each one of the freshly lain welts throb with an unbearably wonderful heat.

Loki lifts his face so that their eyes are locked. “Do you yield to me?”

“Yes. Yes, Loki, I yield.”

And so he does.


End file.
